Building Foundations
by immertreu
Summary: 3/3 Sequel to "Knight's Dawn" and "Testing Boundaries". Jim Gordon and Bruce Wayne/Batman try to get back to business as usual while getting to know each other better.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I know I'm about a year late with this and I am very, very sorry about that. Real life has been very demanding, but I finally decided to post this story before it becomes completely AU because of the new Batman movie. ;) I hope you'll enjoy it. :)

If you haven't read the first two stories of this trilogy, I suggest you go back and read them or this story won't make much sense to you. ;)

**1/3 Knight's Dawn**

**2/3 Testing Boundaries**

3/3 Building Foundations

* * *

**Building Foundations**

by immertreu

May 27, 2010

**Chapter 1**

Not surprisingly, Bruce and Jim didn't make it to their appointment on Saturday without an incident. Instead, Friday night found Batman and his partner in a dark alley behind the second largest bank in Gotham (not the one where Bruce Wayne kept his money, of course), trying to figure out how many hostages were still inside the building with the three bank robbers.

When Jim spotted the shadow known as Batman on the wall of the bank, right after his own arrival at the scene, his first urge had been to throw a tantrum, but that would definitely not have helped in the current situation. There had also been the slight problem of the Police Commissioner standing in the middle of Gotham's Finest, which had prevented him from shouting at Gotham's most sought-after vigilante. So he'd settled for an angry glare that probably had no effect on Batman, suppressed a worried sigh, and turned back to the task at hand – managing a crisis.

The moment Jim deployed his men into their positions and the nerve-wracking waiting for the SWAT team began, he slipped into the nearest alley and wasn't disappointed when a few seconds later a familiar silhouette swooped down to land in front of him. Not daring to yell, he hissed angrily, "Are you nuts? The whole place will be swarming with police in a few minutes, even the alleys; and the roofs around the bank will be full of snipers!"

Batman only shrugged and moved to look around the opposite corner with a grace Jim was relieved to see. His partner seemed to have recovered pretty well since their last encounter.

"Then we better act quickly so I can get out of here," Batman whispered back to him. "Are you going to fulfill their demands?"

Jim looked at him questioningly and a second later mentally called himself an idiot when Batman tapped a finger to one pointy ear. Of course, he would hack into the police chatter. How else could he have known about the hostage situation in the first place?

Batman's grin made Jim shift uneasily. It was still weird to see the vigilante behave like a normal human being, but Jim was also relieved that his partner hadn't gone back to the still composure and disturbing silence for which he had become almost famous. Working with a shadow was all right, but knowing that there was a human being behind the shadow made it a hell of a lot easier – hopefully for both of them by now.

Jim shook his head in reply to Batman's question and said, "We can't give them a helicopter or allow them to take the hostages with them. You know that."

Batman growled, "I know. How about you guarantee them a getaway car, no pursuit, and one hostage? They must agree to release the hostage unharmed two minutes later for you to pick up. As soon as they've sent all the other hostages out, I'll go in from the back and take out the gangsters."

Jim opened his mouth, but Batman cut him off before he could say anything, "I can handle three guys. No one will see me – other than the single hostage perhaps, who will be too grateful to say anything, and the bank robbers, of course, but I bet they'll keep their mouths shut for fear I might come back and kill them."

Jim flinched, unconvinced, but he also knew that they didn't have much choice. They had to act now, before the criminals became too confident or even started killing people to emphasize their demands.

Reluctantly, he gave his agreement. "Okay, okay…Give my men three minutes to prepare a car and clear a path in front of the bank."

Batman nodded and pressed a little device into Jim's hand before taking out his grappling gun and aiming it at the nearest fire escape that led onto the roof of the bank.

"Put that into the car. It's a tracking device. Just in case…"

Jim grimaced and turned back to his men before someone from the newly arrived SWAT team came looking for him. A whoosh behind him confirmed Batman's departure. Obviously, the man was back on track. Jim allowed himself a small smile and took another second to observe the scene unfolding in front of him. Despite (or maybe because of) the mayhem the Joker had created in Gotham only two weeks ago, the force was as efficient as ever, busily securing a perimeter and surrounding the entrance to the bank. Snipers were already climbing the roofs of the adjacent buildings.

Jim spotted Detective Stephens in the crowd and waved him over. The two of them had been on their way to Jim's place for some urgently needed buddy-time when the call had come in, and now Jim was very glad to have the seasoned cop at his side. Although he trusted all the men and women in his units – the cleanout after the whole Joker affair had been quick and efficient – he still preferred to work with his old friend and colleague. Not that the younger officers on the scene weren't capable of carrying out Jim's orders, but what he needed right now was someone who could grasp the subtleties of the situation and wouldn't bother asking too many questions at the wrong time. Hopefully.

He still hadn't told Stephens about the lie he had created regarding Batman and Harvey Dent, and he probably wouldn't do so in the very near future; but if the worst happened and Batman was spotted, it was vital to know that Stephens wouldn't shoot without Jim giving the order. They were here to catch the bad guys, not to arrest a vigilante who was giving his best to save his city. Luckily, Stephens had never been a trigger-happy guy; it didn't seem likely that he'd start tonight.

Jim and Stephens met at the squad car closest to them, and Jim started spitting out orders. "Get my car down here immediately!" he shouted, tossing the keys to Stephens. "I can't give them a helicopter, but if they're smart, they'll accept the offer."

His colleague caught the key ring with a question in his eyes but followed the order nevertheless. Handing him the little device Batman had given him, Jim continued, "Put this into the glove compartment and make sure it's well hidden."

To his credit, Stephens didn't ask any questions but sped off to do as he was told. Jim turned to the officer next to him and said, "Get the hostage takers on the line."

The young cop almost dropped the radio but managed to hand it over to his boss with nervous hands. Jim smiled at him encouragingly and took the offered radio which was tuned in on the correct channel he had used before to communicate with the bank robbers. He made a mental note to put an end to this hero worship the younger police men were developing toward him, sooner rather than later. It wasn't just uncomfortable for him, but it also hindered the force from doing their job. He could only hope that he hadn't been similarly awed and nervous in the beginning of his partnership with Batman.

Mentally kicking himself, he shoved the unwelcome thought aside and pressed the call button. "Hello? This is Commissioner Gordon. I have an offer to make you…"

After that, everything happened very quickly. Stephens arrived with the required car and the hostages were sent out of the bank – all but one. The freed hostages reported that the manager had volunteered to stay behind. Brave but stupid man, Jim thought. He waited three more minutes to give Batman enough time to take care of his business and get out again.

Nothing happened for a few unsettling minutes. When neither the gangsters nor the remaining hostage appeared at the glass doors to claim his car, Jim finally gave the impatient members of the SWAT team the okay to move in.

Jim rushed in directly behind them, weapon in hand; but everything was clear, and he quickly stuffed the gun back into his holster. The bank robbers lay unconscious in a heap on the floor, and the bank manager cowered behind the nearest counter, trembling hands covering his head. Jim took pity on him; and while the SWAT team checked on the gangsters and cuffed their hands behind their back, he walked over to tell the man that everything was over. Jim tried his best to appear calm and in control, as if finding criminals knocked out cold and rescuing a hostage scared but unharmed in the corner was an every day occurrence. It once had been, yes, but that was before Batman was called a murderer and an outlaw. Well, more than usual, at least.

Jim sighed, his thoughts racing. How was he ever going to explain this to the mayor? There was no way he could use the timid bank manager as the hero who had saved the day.

The whispers reaching his ears from every side were full of hushed expressions like "Batman" and "vigilante." Oh, no. He should never have allowed Batman to do this. Anyway, what was the saying? What's done is done. It wasn't really helping in his current predicament, but it was true nonetheless. Oh, boy.

Then again, no one had gotten hurt – apart from the gangsters, of course. All the hostages were fine without a single shot fired. Maybe he could use the shoe lace excuse he had recently read about. Apparently, there was a right and a wrong way to tie your shoes. Using the wrong knot usually resulted in losing your shoes – and sure footing. There was even a website dedicated to such incidents. But all three gangsters at once…?

Stephens appeared at his shoulder, stopping Jim's ridiculous train of thought. He looked around and saw one of the medics carefully leading the bank manager out of the building. The man still looked a little shaken but was able to walk on his own. Stephens followed his gaze and said in a very quiet tone so as not to be overheard, "Any chance he's working with us…again?"

The last word was clearly meant to challenge his boss. Jim shot him a sharp glance but didn't reply.

"Come on," his colleague inquired. "I'm not an idiot, you know. Besides, I know that you know people."

That hit a nerve. Jim quietly hissed, "What the hell are you talking about?"

But he knew very well what the other man was saying. His friend had always trusted his judgment, and even when everybody had called Jim crazy to put his trust in a man who dressed up as a bat and fought criminals at night with his bare hands, he had still helped him install the spotlight on the roof of MCU.

"Stephens," he warned but was cut off by the officer who ran towards them, waving some kind of list in his hands, obviously waiting for his boss's approval for whatever he was doing.

"Beckett," Jim nodded.

"Commissioner," the kid replied breathlessly.

Stephens merely snorted, cast Jim a knowing look, and went back outside to help the other officers. Jim sighed for the umpteenth time that night while checking the hostages' names on the cop's list. He mentally put the idea of making Stephens head of the task force responsible for catching Batman at the top of his to-do-list. He would definitely need all his influence as Police Commissioner to prevent imminent disaster from happening after this stunt.

It had only been two weeks, and Jim had already screwed up. Why exactly had he agreed to the Bat's plan again? But he knew quite well why: because the lives of innocent people had been at stake. That was definitely worth a fight with the mayor and the huge amount of paperwork his required cover-up would demand.

There was only one conversation he was looking forward to less than the one with Mayor Garcia, and that was the talk he'd have to have with Bruce tomorrow. In the future, Batman had to stay out of such situations that almost screamed the vigilante's involvement. He most definitely knew that already, but somehow Jim doubted his partner would be able to let innocent citizens suffer for fear of his own safety. Yet he wasn't risking only his life; he also jeopardized uncovering the lies Jim had told the people of Gotham in order to avoid more chaos and prevent the city from losing hope and the belief in her white knight-turned-psychopath.

This was going to be a long weekend.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: The next one is longer. I promise.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Batman hid in the shadows again, three rooftops away from the bank, and observed how the SWAT team ran into the building and came out three minutes later, taking the cuffed and still dazed bank robbers with them. Luckily, no one had gotten seriously hurt because getting in and taking out the hostage-takers had been easy. They'd been petrified and dropped their weapons almost immediately. The hostage had vanished behind the counter the moment the lights went out, and Batman was grateful that he hadn't had to talk to the man or even intimidate him into saying nothing about his unlikely rescuer.

He rubbed his tiring eyes and now followed Gordon with his gaze. The Commissioner came out of the building, exchanged a few words with the cops who were still on the scene and made sure everyone followed procedure. Gordon didn't look happy, and Batman had a pretty fair idea why, but he had never been one to sit idly by while others' lives were in danger. Gordon had to know that, didn't he? Next time they just had to come up with a better plan to obscure Batman's involvement.

Batman stayed on the roof until all the men had left the scene and even Gordon had climbed into the last of the SWAT vans which drove back to the station, doubtless using his influence to prevent anyone on the team from mentioning Batman's alleged interference. He almost snorted at the thought but managed to keep silent at the very last moment. No one on the force would be so stupid not to recognize Batman's handiwork, but hopefully it could be kept quiet and stopped from leaking to the other cops who hadn't been there tonight.

Stephens trailed the van in Gordon's car, but Batman didn't worry about the tracking device. He trusted Stephens, almost as much as Gordon himself, and he knew his partner would make sure nobody ever found the advanced piece of technology as soon as they reached the MCU. Satisfied that the situation had been resolved without bloodshed, Batman took off and started for home. Alfred would be waiting for him. And despite Bruce's constant reassurances that he was fine, it was obvious that the injuries he'd accumulated because of the Joker and Dent were still healing. His nightly patrols and brawls with the criminals of Gotham wore him out more quickly than usual, and Alfred wouldn't be amused if he fell asleep in the current batcave and had to be picked up there – again. Batman couldn't quite remember how many times it had been in total, but judging by Alfred's not-so-amused glare the last time this happened, he was trying not to make it a habit.

* * *

By the time Jim finally got home, it was after midnight. It had taken several hours to take all the statements from the hostages who couldn't tell him anything other than the obvious, namely that three guys had tried to rob the bank. Questioning the bank robbers hadn't helped much either. They swore they hadn't seen what hit them. The bank manager could only remember that suddenly the lights had gone out, so he took the chance and hid behind the counter. When the lights came back on again, the gangsters were unconscious and lying on the floor. None of the interviewees had mentioned Batman, for which Jim was grateful. After finishing the necessary paperwork, he'd apologized to Stephens and sent the man home with a promise to make up for the busted evening next weekend. His friend had pierced him with a look that foretold of trouble for the future and set off with a mumbled, "Night, Jim."

Jim sighed and closed the front door behind him. Thankfully, Barbara and the kids had left immediately after school today, so they could spend as much time as possible with the grandparents. He kicked off his shoes, dropped the car keys on the counter in the hall and carefully took the tracking device Batman had given to him out of his pocket. Stephens had done as told and put it in the glove compartment, so Jim only had to fetch it the moment he reclaimed his car at the station. He knew that Batman wouldn't like anybody else to learn about his technology or – worse – someone might even be able to trace the signal backwards and find Batman on the other end of the trail.

Jim placed the tracking device next to his keys and made his way into the kitchen while shrugging out of his coat. He was hanging it over the back of one of the chairs at the worn kitchen table when the batphone he always carried with him clunk against the chair leg. As he plunged his hand into the inside coat pocket, he realized he still hadn't come up with a better word for the special cell Batman had given him. But then, since he never talked to anyone about it or anyone else on it, a proper name didn't really matter, did it? Jim dug the phone out of the pocket and weighed it carefully in his hand.

He had promised himself to use this lifeline to his partner only in dire circumstances. Perhaps he should call Bruce on the landline to see if he had gotten home safely? Then he dismissed the thought as quickly as it had appeared. If he acted liked this every time Batman had been on the scene, he would never get a good night's sleep again. Jim sighed, tucked the phone away and went in search of something to eat. A box of home-made cookies Barbara and the kids had baked yesterday made him smile: they were in bat shape. He hadn't even tried to talk them out of it. It was the kids' way of coping with the abduction and following rescue by Batman, and even Barbara seemed to have enjoyed their little secret. The cookies looked more like ghosts than bats anyway, and in case some friend or neighbor ever noticed the unusual form of the Gordons' cookies, they could always say that they had been late for Halloween this year.

Chuckling, he grabbed a few bats and a glass of milk – at least Barbara's preaching of reasonably healthy food had rubbed off on him, if not on the kids – and settled down in front of the television in the living room. The last thing he remembered before falling asleep on the couch was the weatherman announcing a storm coming towards Gotham. Wonderful! Just what they needed right now. Not.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Saturday morning found Jim in a terribly awkward position on the sofa. The couch was too short, so his feet hung over the edge, and his neck was totally stiff from a pillow that had ended up the wrong way under his head over night. He groaned and carefully rose to his feet. The house was eerily quiet, and it took him a moment to remember that his family would not be back until tomorrow night. He stifled a yawn and shuffled into the kitchen. The first thing he needed right now was a decent cup of strong coffee.

Two coffees and a hot shower later, Jim felt almost human again. He'd just opened the refrigerator to see if his family had left him with anything edible when the doorbell rang. A glance at the clock on the kitchen wall confirmed his suspicion: Bruce was early.

Opening the front door, Jim was ready to point out the obvious to the billionaire, but the paper bag and two large paper cups appearing before of his eyes made him swallow his comment. He grabbed the bag which smelled mouth-wateringly like fresh donuts, shot Bruce an appreciative look over the rim of his glasses, and motioned for him to step inside. Bruce chuckled and replied with a cheerful, "Good morning to you, too," while following Jim into the hall and closing the door behind him with a swift kick of his right foot. Jim merely grunted and led them through to the kitchen because he'd suddenly remembered that he hadn't even checked the condition of the living room after his crash on the sofa. He doubted Bruce would be bothered by any kind of untidiness – after all, the man spent his nights beating criminals to a pulp, not to mention the hours he had surely logged in filthy alleys and buildings while observing the mob's activities – but somehow he wanted to make a good impression on his friend.

Bruce wore blue jeans, a cream sweater, and neat black shoes. Nothing too elegant, but definitely not in the price range Jim was used to buying for his family. Relieved that he'd had the mind to put on some of his less worn clothes today – dark pants, white shirt, and the pullover Barbara had bought him only last week – Jim motioned for Bruce to take a seat at the kitchen table. After shuffling around awkwardly for a while – Bruce was tall, even without the boots he wore as Batman, and had to slouch in his chair to reach the table top comfortably – both men sat across from each other, silently sipping their coffee. Apparently, Bruce had already had breakfast because he let Jim have all the donuts and only snatched the last one when Jim's theatrical sigh announced that his hunger was stilled.

Jim eyed Bruce suspiciously because his friend was obviously in a very good mood, despite the early hour and last night's occurrences. Jim washed down the last of his donut with some coffee – damn, this stuff was good, not the usual tasteless brew he was used to drinking at the GCPD – and eventually said, "I thought bats were nocturnal." He flashed his most innocent grin at Bruce who almost snorted into his coffee by surprise.

After gulping down the last mouthful he'd just taken, Bruce replied in the same even tone Jim had used, "They are. Some more than others." He winked at Jim over the rim of the cup he still held. "But sometimes they have to break their habits for the good cause."

He grinned – a real grin, not the grim, thin-lipped smile Batman had begun to show in Gordon's presence lately – and this time it was Jim's turn to avoid spilling coffee all over the table because Bruce's boyish charms caught him off-guard. He could only guess how much trouble Bruce had been able to avoid when growing up, just by throwing in a cheeky grin or an innocent wink.

"You're impossible, you know that?" he asked, shaking his head, but smiling nonetheless. Who would have thought that Batman – Bruce – hid such a playful nature under his usual solemn demeanor. Jim had seen glimpses of Bruce's dry humor in the batcave already, but now, sitting at the Gordons' kitchen table and enjoying a good cup of coffee, he seemed more relaxed than Jim had ever seen him.

You sound as if you've known him forever, Jim thought. But he had known him for a very long time, hadn't he? Batman and Gordon had worked closely together in secrecy for years, and the few encounters they'd had since Jim had found out about Bruce being Batman had only deepened their relationship and trust in each other. So, in a way, he knew the man opposite him who now looked around the kitchen and took in his surroundings with careful interest very well. He just had to get to know this side of his character better and fit it together with all the other information he had about his unusual friend and his many facets.

Bruce returned Jim's smile and chewed on his donut, representing a picture of perfect innocence. Jim chuckled, and both men finished their impromptu breakfast in companionable silence, then got up almost simultaneously. Bruce grinned, collecting their paper cups and the bags and throwing them into the trash can under the sink while Jim opened the box of cookies he'd discovered last night. When Bruce turned back towards him, Jim offered it to him. "Cookie?"

Bruce cast one look at the bats and broke out in a heartfelt laugh Jim was delighted to hear. "Nice," he commented in his best Batman growl, using the same tone in which he'd greeted Gordon on the roof of the MCU right after Jim's promotion to Lieutenant and the installation of the spotlight. He snatched a cookie out of the box and took a careful bite. After a moment, he nodded his approval. "My compliments to your wife and kids," he then added in his normal voice. "I suspect it was Jimmy's idea?" he asked, stuffing the rest of the bat-cookie into his mouth.

Jim nodded, suddenly serious again and a little bit startled by the change in Bruce's voice. He still hadn't gotten used to hearing Batman but seeing Bruce. "Don't do that," he warned with an angry glare towards Bruce, putting away the cookies and taking his coat from the back of a chair. He'd hung it there last night and in his morning daze had totally forgotten to put it in its place on the rack. Shrugging on the coat, he continued, "You never know who might be lurking just outside the window. I don't live above everyone else in this city like a certain someone, remember?"

Bruce looked as if he wanted to give a harsh reply, but then he changed his mind and indicated the old, well-used kitchen: the fridge, decorated with colorful magnets and the children's drawings, the family pictures lining the walls and leading everyone who wanted to follow the private gallery into the living room and every other room which could be seen through the open doors lining the hallway. "I like your place better," he replied wistfully which stopped Jim dead in his tracks on his way to the front door.

Jim turned around and stared at Bruce. "Why?" he finally asked, although he suspected he knew the answer. He just hadn't expected such an honest and serious reply.

Bruce didn't answer but merely shook his head, pushing past Jim and starting toward the door. Jim sighed inwardly and followed his unpredictable friend, grabbing his keys and Batman's tracking device from the counter in the hall on the way. "Here, this is yours," he said and handed the small device to Bruce who took it and quickly stashed it in his front pocket with a nod.

Bruce had parked right outside the Gordons' house. Jim heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the inconspicuous blue BMW instead of Bruce's new Lamborghini – or worse, the limo. It was an older model, marked by some accidents which might have involved some lamp posts and a parking meter. Proud that he hadn't forgotten everything he'd learned as a beat cop, Jim grinned at Bruce. "Nice car."

Bruce looked at him, an unidentifiable glitter in his eyes, and unlocked the doors. Jim had to get into the car in order to understand Bruce's answer because his friend had quickly taken his place behind the wheel. "I can be a normal guy, you know," he said jokingly, but Jim could see the old pain hidden behind the carefully schooled features.

Jim had never envied the rich and powerful of Gotham. Life in the spotlight was hard. He'd experienced a less painful version of leading a public life since his promotion to Police Commissioner, but it had to be hard – much harder – for a boy, a young man now, who'd never had the chance to lead a normal life. A life where people didn't want to talk to him just because his parents had been murdered. Where children didn't want to play with him because his last name was Wayne, or where young women didn't want to be his girlfriends because he was one of the richest bachelors in the entire world.

Lost in thought, Jim didn't pay much attention when Bruce started the car, but now he looked up and saw that they were already approaching the outer districts of Gotham City. "Are we going where I think we're going?" he asked his silent companion.

"Yup," came the simple reply, and Jim raked a frustrated hand through his graying hair, ruining this morning's careful work. Obviously, Bruce Wayne drove a car with the same focused precision he did everything else, from talking to observing his surroundings to beating up criminals.

Jim huffed in annoyance and decided to use their car ride to the batcave for some serious talking. This way Bruce would have to listen to what his partner had to say – unless he wanted to kick Jim out of the car or abandon it himself, of course – but Bruce definitely wasn't childish enough for that.

Observing the old warehouses and dark alleys passing by, Jim finally said, "We might have a problem with Stephens. He suspects I lied about Batman and Dent."

Bruce didn't even bat an eyelash. "Of course he does," he answered. "He's a smart cop. Almost as good as you."

Jim snorted. "Thanks, but that's not the point. What if he starts asking questions and shakes up the other detectives? There are enough already who have their doubts and don't want to believe Batman killed all those people."

Bruce didn't react to his latest statement, so Jim continued more urgently, "If you continue pulling stunts like the one at the bank, it won't matter anymore what people believe or don't do because one of my men will get to you."

At that, Bruce hit the breaks and brought the car to a screeching halt in the middle of the empty alley. Startled, Jim looked over and saw Bruce's hands clench the steering wheel so hard his knuckles where white. Oops, Jim thought wearily and prepared for another heated argument with his friend. He made a mental note to ask Alfred one day how he managed to live with his younger friend without getting into fights every day.

"Why didn't you call me?" Bruce suddenly demanded, the question not what Jim had been expecting. He turned his full attention and his intense gaze to Jim who had turned in his seat, pressing his back against the car door. "You have my number now, remember?" he added dangerously low. It sounded as if he was having a hard time not falling into Batman's dark growl.

Jim bristled. "I can't call you in for every bank robbery or other petty crime in Gotham. The whole GCPD is hunting you!" he replied hotly, receiving another angry stare in return.

"Petty crime?" Bruce asked incredulously. "Petty crime? People's lives were in danger!"

Now he was beginning to shout, and Jim yelled in return, "I know!"

They stared silently at each other in the small space of the car. Jim could see that Bruce's anger and frustration threatened to overwhelm him. Jim understood his friend's need to protect the people of the city he'd sworn to give back to the honest people of Gotham, but somehow he had to make him understand that there were times when he couldn't or shouldn't interfere. A little softer he added, "I understand. Believe me, I really do. But you can't always be there."

Bruce's fury vanished as quickly as it had appeared, taking Jim by surprise once more. Restarting the car, Bruce asked, "What do you want me to do then?"

Jim didn't know what to say, so Bruce clarified, "Do you want me to sit idly by while innocent people are at risk simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time? I can't do that!" Keeping his eyes on the road, he turned the corner with more speed than was safe, but Jim kept his mouth shut. Suddenly they had reached the gate that prevented any unwanted visitors from entering the area where the entry to the underground bunker was hidden.

Astounded and somewhat placated that Bruce had allowed him to see the way to his secret hideout, Jim rubbed his face and said, "No, of course not. But I want you to be a little more careful next time." And I'll be more careful to let him get involved at all, Jim promised himself silently. He knew he wasn't entirely without fault in this dilemma.

Bruce's reply was a noncommittal grunt before he got out of the car to open the gate, drove them through, and closed the gate behind them again. All the while he checked out their surroundings as he'd done on their way out here, looking for anyone who might have followed them or happened to be in the area.

Jim couldn't restrain himself from asking, "Why the old-fashioned lock? Wouldn't a remote controlled gate be faster and easier to handle?"

Bruce shook his head. "Too conspicuous in this part of town," he answered.

Jim nodded, feeling a little foolish at his question. "Of course."

Bruce cast him a sly smile, and they spent the rest of the short drive in silence until they stopped behind one of the containers that looked just like all the other ones in the vicinity. The battered boxes of metal seemed to stand around in no particular order, rusty and forgotten, but by now Jim knew better. Together they entered the container-turned-elevator which started descending the moment Bruce closed the outer door behind them.

Jim was nervous, but this time he was also really looking forward to entering his partner's secret lair. Dozens of wonders and discoveries lay ahead of him today.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm posting two chapters today because this one is even shorter than the second one.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Bruce didn't need to see Jim in the darkness of the short elevator ride to know the way his friend's thoughts were going. He was good at hiding his anxiety under an aura of excitement and curiosity, but both men knew very well what had happened the last time they'd been in this place of secrecy and mysteries. Their relationship since that memorable night had been rather unique, to say the least, and Bruce knew that there were a lot of issues they had yet to sort through in order for them to make this partnership work.

They reached the floor of the temporary batcave, and bright lights flickered up in greeting when Bruce stepped off the platform, quickly followed by Jim who gazed around the seemingly empty hall as if he'd never seen it before. Bruce hid his amused smile and made his way toward where the computers and worktables would soon appear. The elevator vanished back into the ceiling with a soft thud behind their backs. Turning back to Jim, ready to begin the grand tour he'd promised his friend a few days ago, he found Jim staring at him, frowning.

After an inquiring look from Bruce, Jim finally said, "We haven't finished our conversation yet."

Bruce could hardly stop himself from rolling his eyes at the remark and groaned inwardly. Just wonderful, he'd managed to find another man with Alfred's annoying quality of following up on conversations everyone else, namely Bruce, had deemed a closed subject ages ago. Sighing, he replied, "You wanna tell Stephens? Fine, go ahead, but don't expect me to like it." He turned away, pushing the hidden button that called Batman's equipment to the surface with more force than necessary. He could feel Jim's gaze boring into the back of his head. And sure enough, after a few seconds of silence, Jim spoke again.

"Are you serious? A few minutes ago you said no."

Bruce turned back to face his friend. "I changed my mind," he said.

Jim just stared at him, brows knitted together in confusion. "Why…?"

"Because you're right," Bruce admitted grudgingly. "We can't have him asking too many questions, and he'd find out sooner or later anyway. By telling him we win an ally who can help us hiding the truth as long as possible." He turned back to the console that had meanwhile appeared behind him and started typing away on the keyboards, calling up various news channels on the monitors overhead and preparing the system for its daily check.

Jim shuffled around a little and at last came to stand next to him. "What are you doing?" he asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him and forcing him to put the topic aside for now.

Seizing the moment, Bruce started explaining parts of his surveillance equipment and the channels of information he used. Not all of them of course – even the Commissioner would have a hard time ignoring the bugs planted in his office building – but the ones he thought Jim would be interested in and would file away for further use, in case he ever needed an unusual – or rather, unofficial – way of getting information.

* * *

A few hours later, Jim's head swam from looking at all the futuristic technology and listening to Bruce's long-winded explanations. He could tell that his friend was trying to simplify the most complicated facts, but Jim had stopped listening a while ago because his mind simply couldn't handle the massive amount of data anymore. Noticing this, Bruce broke off his explanation about the new tumbler mid-sentence and shot him an inquiring look.

"We should continue this another day, don't you think?" Bruce asked.

"Huh?" Jim replied, ashamed of getting caught. "Uh… right," he finally said and turned away from the worktable and the complicated plans laid out there. "I think I could use some fresh air. The stuff you showed to me is really fascinating, but a lot to take in at once."

Bruce chuckled. "I know. It took me months to gather all this equipment and learn how to use it properly." He suddenly grew serious again. "I can't afford to make mistakes."

Jim nodded grimly. They both knew what a single mistake would mean for Bruce…and Batman: imprisonment, a life sentence for something he hadn't done – or worse, death, if one of Batman's old foes managed to get his hands on him.

Jim didn't doubt that Bruce's lawyers could get him out the accusations of damaging state property and violating a dozen smaller laws – but killing a DA and the assistant DA, among others… those charges couldn't be ignored. And Jim's own testimony would surely be dismissed as lies because no one trusted a Police Commissioner who had been working with a wanted vigilante for years and had even known his true identity.

Their eyes met, and Jim could see that Bruce's thoughts had gone along the same line as his, but none of them spoke. Suddenly, Bruce turned away, hit a few last keys, obviously entering the command that would shut down the computers and let the equipment vanish back to where it had come from. Jim watched in awe as the workstations and Batman's vast collection of tools and technology sank gracefully into the floor and out of sight once more. Bruce grinned, a hint of smugness – or maybe pride? – on his face, and motioned for Jim to follow him to the elevator platform.

"You hungry?" Bruce asked.

Jim nodded, suddenly realizing that he hadn't eaten anything since the donuts Bruce had brought along this morning. His stomach growled in protest at the thought, and Jim looked up in time to see his friend smirk at him.

"I thought so," Bruce said. "Let's go annoy Alfred," he added cheekily, and the elevator started rising to the surface.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Dinner had been wonderful. Alfred had prepared a meal the likes of which Jim hadn't seen since his own wedding. It wasn't flashy or overly extravagant, but the unfamiliar Asian dishes – mostly strange kinds of vegetables, rice and chicken (Jim hoped it had been chicken, at least…) – and the marvelous surroundings made Jim feel as if he were on vacation. Either that – or dreaming. He preferred the former.

Jim felt a little guilty that his new-found friendship with Gotham's famous billionaire entitled him to such unexpected bouts of luxury, but then he calmed his conscience by telling himself that his family surely had a wonderful time at the grandparents who would spoil their two favorite grandchildren mercilessly.

Bruce had asked his butler to share their meal with them, and Jim had kept silent most of the time, observing his friend and his former guardian. Over the course of the meal it became obvious to him that not only was Alfred worried about his young master, but Bruce was very worried about his old friend's well-being as well. Neither of them had to say it out loud, but the way they tried to convince each other to eat "just a tiny bit more" and the gazes they shot at the other when they thought he wasn't looking, would have been quite funny if the situation weren't so serious.

Afterwards, Alfred left them alone on the penthouse terrace, and the two friends now stood at the balustrade, overlooking Gotham and the approaching storm just visible on the horizon. A fresh wind had picked up, but neither of them wanted to go inside, needing the fresh air and openness around them instead.

Suddenly, Jim voiced a question he hadn't dared to ask before. "Who else knows?"

Bruce looked at him, his face all of a sudden as unreadable as Batman's. "Beside you, you mean?" he answered, and Jim nodded.

Bruce's eyes bore into his, but Jim knew it wasn't a matter of trust that kept his friend from answering right away because his expression darkened and looked almost pained now.

"Only Alfred and a friend who helps me with my gear," Bruce finally replied. "Not to mention Coleman Reese. He accidentally found the plans for the tumbler – the bat mobile – and put two and two together, but I doubt he'll ever try to pull a stunt like the one with the tv show again. He's learned his lesson and besides, he owes me his life."

Jim nodded in understanding, and after a few seconds, Bruce added wistfully, "And Rachel knew, of course."

Bruce's gaze wandered off into the distance of the city, and Jim heaved a deep sigh, his thoughts going back to their conversation in the bat cave a few days ago. Bruce had mentioned that Rachel Dawes had known, but at the time Jim had been too busy trying to bring his partner back from the edge to reflect on it any further. Now that he came to think of it, everything fell into place. Since he'd learned Batman's secret, much that had happened over the past few weeks – years even – made a lot more sense.

Of course, Jim hadn't been there after he'd supposedly "died," but he'd heard rumors that Rachel had gone to Bruce Wayne's penthouse of all places when the parade for Commissioner Loeb had ended in chaos and despair. The young Assistant DA had been announced as the Joker's next victim, and no one had understood why she'd preferred the playboy's home to police protection in a safehouse then. Oh, if she'd only stayed there…

Rachel probably hadn't known right from the beginning, but at some point she must have guessed or rather Batman must have allowed her to see behind the mask. Jim couldn't picture Bruce blurting out his secret to anyone, not even to his girlfriend, without a very good reason, but what if he wanted her to marry him or was planning on asking her at some point? Somehow, Jim was ready to bet his badge that she hadn't taken well to the whole vigilante thing. The Rachel he'd known had always appeared very down-to-earth, earnest and honest, and there had never been any signs that she'd worked with Batman again after the incident in the Narrows.

If Jim hadn't played dead man in order to protect his family that fateful day, if he had been there at Rachel's side…he could have saved her, protected her, convinced her to stay at the penthouse. Then again, he hadn't been able to protect Harvey Dent, Commissioner Loeb and Judge Surrillo either…The moles in his department had rendered all his efforts useless, and everyone the Joker wanted dead had died exactly as the madman had planned.

Jim rubbed his temples to hinder the threatening headache from emerging and concentrated on the smooth surface of the penthouse's terrace beneath his feet to steady himself. The pain he'd seen in Batman's – and Bruce's – eyes when they hadn't been able to save Rachel would haunt him forever, just as he would never forget seeing the same look on his much smaller and younger face the night Bruce's parents had died. The boy hadn't cried, just stared at him, his eyes wide in a chalky face. The only thing missing then had been the anger and fury the adult Bruce was harboring now.

Suddenly, two feet in polished black shoes appeared in his line of vision. Jolting from his reverie, Jim's head snapped upwards to find Bruce's intense gaze resting on him. His friend didn't move but cast Jim a long look, obviously not sure whether to say everything that was on his mind or not. Why did Jim always have the feeling the younger man was able to read his thoughts? It was slightly unnerving. Eventually, his voice dangerously close to Batman's dark rasp, Bruce said, "Her memorial service will be tomorrow. I want you to come…please."

Jim swallowed hard, pain and guilt clawing at his heart. The date hadn't been announced officially to the public, but he had known about it, of course. Because Rachel's family wanted a quiet and private memorial, he hadn't thought about attending. As far as he knew, there was only her elderly mother and two distant cousins left, but none of them lived in Gotham anymore, so he hadn't known where to send his condolences. Jim looked up into Bruce's haunted eyes and slowly nodded. "If you think it's okay with the family, I'll come," he agreed.

Bruce regarded him solemnly and replied, "They asked me to invite you. I told them about you, what you did."

Jim huffed angrily. "You mean, what I didn't do."

Bruce didn't take the bait and continued as if he hadn't heard, "…and what you do to make this city a better place. Of course, they don't know everything that happened, they never will, but they understand that you have the same goal Rachel had. Her mother is very proud that she was allowed to work beside you against the criminals in Gotham."

Bruce's already rough voice almost cracked at the mention of Rachel's name, painfully reminding Jim that he wasn't the only one who blamed himself for her death. They had already talked about this whole guilt thing and decided that everything was the Joker's doing, that there was nothing they could have done, but there was a great difference between knowing and accepting that somebody's death wasn't your fault. Mind and heart didn't always agree but chose to torture the unlucky person who had to live with his feelings of failure instead.

Alfred's appearance in the doorway rescued Jim from spitting out some dumb platitude because he didn't really know what to say to comfort his friend.

It was time for him to go home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Rachel Dawes' memorial service was a very sad business. Jim sat in the back of the room in the funeral home and observed the events unfold in front of him. He felt totally out of place; and if Bruce hadn't asked him to attend, he'd never have come on his own or would have probably fled the scene the second he spotted the first of the two dozen guests – mostly co-workers he recognized from his visits at court – who were seated in two rows before him now. He had never really talked to any of them, unless the topic was work-related, so he listened in grim silence as one after the other got up and spoke a few words of remembrance about their late Assistant District Attorney. Jim couldn't follow their in-jokes and memories, but he understood that Rachel had been very well-liked and respected among her colleagues who missed her dearly. The Joker's madness had claimed one too many young victims, and even the knowledge that the madman was locked up in Arkham now, awaiting his trial and probably several life sentences in the institute, couldn't lessen Jim's anger and sadness.

Jim didn't know Rachel's relatives in person and because he'd arrived just in time for the memorial to begin, no formal introductions had been made. He could only assume that the bowed white and brown-haired heads in the first row belonged to Rachel's elderly mother and her cousins. Bruce and Alfred were seated directly behind the three women and both men's slumped shoulders spoke of deep grief and sorrow. The sight made Jim's heart ache even more. The butler and his master were unconsciously leaning towards each other, arms almost touching, and for once Jim didn't know who was supporting whom. He knew that the Dawes family had worked and lived at Wayne Manor when Bruce's parents were still alive, and knowing Alfred's caring nature, he'd surely accepted little Rachel as the daughter he'd never had himself. So in a way, they weren't only saying goodbye to a beloved friend today, but to a daughter and sister as well.

The memory of how close he'd come to loosing his own son, his own family, just a few days ago, made Jim's heart skip a beat, and he had to close his eyes and draw a deep breath to avoid panicking or running out of the room in order to call Barbara and the kids to make sure they were okay. As if sensing his distress, Bruce turned around and sent him a small, sad smile before turning back to where the pastor had now taken his place in the front of the room, next to a beautiful bouquet of flowers that framed the photograph of a smiling Rachel. Jim didn't know when or where it had been taken, but it looked recent to his eyes and showed Rachel the way he wanted to remember her: full of life and happiness, despite the always present threat Gotham's underworld posed in this city.

Jim sighed and tried to concentrate on what the pastor said, but it didn't sound as if he'd known Rachel very well. He talked about her achievements as ADA and called her death a tragedy and a loss for Gotham. Jim agreed with him on that, but the loss for her family and friends weighed much heavier in his opinion, so he stopped listening to the well-rehearsed speech and went back to observing his fellow mourners. Luckily, the man hadn't mentioned Batman's role in the past events. He wasn't sure how Bruce and Alfred would have reacted if the pastor had said a single bad word about the vigilante. Then again, Jim wasn't sure how he would have reacted himself if the pastor had said something disparaging about the Dark Knight.

Now that he knew the truth about Batman, Jim couldn't understand why he hadn't been more suspicious or had drawn the right conclusions about Gotham's silent guardian sooner when he'd heard the story about Batman appearing on the scene at Bruce Wayne's fundraiser. Everybody had seen that Batman had attacked the moment the Joker held a knife to Rachel's throat, and then jumped from a skyscraper in order to save her. And the following day, when they had the Joker at MCU for questioning, Batman had raced to Rachel's rescue without even thinking twice after having been mocked about his alleged relationship with her.

Jim's cop sense should have told him that there was more behind the vigilante's actions than his usual sense of duty. Then again, he couldn't have known because he wasn't aware of Bruce and Rachel's connection at the time. Besides, Rachel had been as good as engaged, and her boyfriend simply couldn't have been Batman – unless he was able to be in two places at once.

Jim suddenly broke from his musings when Bruce stood up. He reached down to help Alfred to his feet, and Jim suddenly remembered how old Bruce's former guardian must be. Usually you didn't notice because Alfred was too busy looking after his stubborn charge and hiding his own aches and tired bones, but today the toll the recent events had taken on him was clearly visible. Jim made a mental note to try to talk to Alfred later today. Maybe the old butler would like to have a chat with someone closer to his own age. He didn't doubt Bruce's willingness to talk to his friend, but Jim was ready to bet that Alfred would simply hold off because Bruce had already enough to worry about.

The relationship between Bruce Wayne and his butler never ceased to amaze Jim. The exchanges between the two men he'd been privy to clearly showed how much they cared for each other. Despite their differences of age and rank, their status as master and butler, their very distinct tempers and approaches to life, there was an invisible bond between them that few outside their little family had ever been allowed to see – except for Jim. And for the umpteenth time in the past week, he asked himself why he deserved to be part of something this special – and scary. Jim, you're getting sentimental, he chastised himself. But he couldn't deny that seeing someone so totally devoted to each other, without even thinking about it, definitely made for a humbling experience.

He shook off these uncharacteristically philosophical thoughts and followed the other guests toward the grieving family to offer his condolences. Afterwards he couldn't even remember what he'd said to Mrs. Dawes, but he must have found the right words because for just a split second, a small smile had appeared on the elderly woman's face which pleased Jim and hurt him deeply at the same time. One simple moment had been enough to show the family resemblance between Rachel and her mother; it was as if Rachel had sent him one last forgiving smile before leaving this world forever.

A few minutes later, Alfred found him on a bench just outside the funeral home, staring into space. Bruce was nowhere to be seen, and Jim was thankful for that. The older man didn't say anything. He simply sat down next to Jim, and both men shared a long moment in quietness, watching the other attendees leave the funeral home: sometimes in groups of twos or threes, sometimes alone, the dark clad figures made their way to the waiting cars or walked off in thoughtful silence. Some of them cast the two men on the bench a guarded look, but luckily no one tried to talk to them. Jim returned a silent greeting with a nod once or twice, but other than that they remained undisturbed and Jim used the time to regain his composure.

When he finally turned towards his gentle companion, he could see that Alfred had done the same. His previously slumped shoulders and posture were gone; he looked composed and graceful as always, ready to take on the world or any mischief his young master might conjure up next. The thought made Jim chuckle, but he chose to ignore Alfred's questioning glance and asked a question of his own instead. The older man obviously didn't want to talk about his personal thoughts, so Jim said the first thing that came to his mind.

"Does he ever cry?" Jim asked, and he didn't have to elaborate. Alfred knew exactly what Jim meant, and he showed no sign that he disapproved of the personal nature of the question.

"Yes," came the quiet reply.

Jim regarded Alfred thoughtfully, and the other man continued, "I've seen him cry two times: after his parents' funeral and the night Rachel died. Why do you ask?"

Jim shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm not quite sure. Sometimes he seems to be more than a human being to me."

The butler nodded in agreement. "That is his goal: to become a symbol, incorruptible, intangible."

Jim sighed. "I know, but still, he's only a man. Yet he hardly allows anyone to see it. Don't you think that one day he might break under the pressure? We came pretty close to losing him last week."

Alfred's face lit up despite the grave topic.

"Why are you smiling?" Jim asked, not able to follow his train of thoughts.

The older man's smile deepened. "You said 'we'."

"Uhm…" Jim didn't know what to say to that, so he looked away, half expecting Bruce, with his impeccable timing, to stand in the doorway, but no – no such luck.

Alfred's gentle voice brought him back to their conversion. "It is only natural to be concerned. You are his friend. I didn't expect anything less from you, or I wouldn't have called you when we needed help. No one wants to say it, but we all know that there may come a day when I can't help him any more. And I'm not getting any younger, you know. There might be a time when he comes to you instead of me. He would never want to admit it for a moment, but he needs someone who understands; and not only that, he needs acceptance, too."

The implications of that statement and the matter-of-fact way in which it was presented made Jim swallow and struggle for a reply. This time, though, he really got rescued by Bruce appearing in the shadow of the funeral home's entrance. Relieved that he didn't have to answer anymore – Bruce would surely not appreciate him asking his butler questions about his personal life – Jim got up and looked at Bruce expectantly, Alfred right behind him.

Bruce didn't look at Jim but at his old mentor instead and said, "Let's go home."

Alfred nodded once. "Very well, Master Wayne," he said, and with one last glance toward Jim, walked away into the direction of their car. Bruce started to follow, but then he turned around and looked at Jim with a slightly apologetic expression on his face.

"I'll call you, okay?"

Jim understood perfectly well how hard the memorial service must have been for his friend, and he wasn't angry to be abandoned like this. Despite Bruce's outer appearance of strength and confidence, he still harbored a lot of insecurities and unresolved issues he needed to sort out without anyone looking on. So Jim nodded and sent his friend a small, comforting smile. "Don't worry, I'll be fine," he said and made a shooing motion with his hand, sending Bruce on his way.

Bruce started walking, but then he turned around one last time and said, so quietly that Jim had to strain to hear, "Thank you." And with that he was gone.

**The End**

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**A/N: So...this is it! The end. Thank you for reading, and a special thanks to my avid reviewers! I hope you enjoyed the story. :) (There's something you didn't like? Drop me a line anyway. I love to hear from my readers.)

I know this story could have been longer, but nothing else I tried felt right for these two stubborn friends, so I decided to concentrate on the most important moments of their encounters for now. So yes, this means there are other plot bunnies hopping around in my head. Stephens needs to learn the truth one day, Gordon has to attend Bruce's housewarming party... ;)

And the ending? Well, let's just say that it's still Batman we're talking about here. He may be more human now, but no one can control him, no one can really get close to him if he's in one of his moods... Sometimes he just has to get away, and Jim has to live with that.


End file.
